Coming Home
by writerinmydreams007
Summary: "Cursed is the man who dies, but the evil done by him survives." E/B AH
1. Prologue

Thanks to the Sparkly Red Pen, Artistic Wonder and Britt01 for hooking it up.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, I just like to use the characters.

Enjoy!

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><p>The fence around the periphery of the cemetery looked almost as old as the headstones inside it. Long tarnished rods with spikes on the ends stood at attention side by side, surrounding this quiet area like each plot was the plague, and no one was allowed out.<p>

The headstones were tilted and sagging, like they themselves were tired and looking to pass on. Each one held the name and dates of birth and death of the person it represented, some so worn down by weather and time that the writing had faded away just as the memory of that person's life had.

I wondered how long it would take for me to forget my father, for his headstone to age and the memory of his life to dim.

A cold breeze flew through the cemetery, passing around each headstone surrounding me until it covered me, chilling me to the bone. I looked up to the sky, watching the dark blue and grey clouds roll in like I'd seen them do a hundred times before.

Winter was coming, and it was coming fast. In the North East, was something to curse about, the unwelcome snow and bitter cold staking claim for month after month, changing your life and your mood, depending on how it saw fit. I hated the winter, which is why I hadn't seen one in years – until now.

"Pay attention," I heard my mother whisper in my ear from beside me. I looked over at her and said nothing, not wanting her to feel any worse than she already did, than she already looked.

My mother was something of a beauty when she was my age, long wavy brown hair just like mine and warm brown eyes that could win over anyone if she wanted to. I'd been told many times that I was my mother's daughter, and as much as I was thankful, I hoped the years didn't treat me as harshly as they had treated her.

Her once illustrious face had worn, like the headstones around us, until she was barely recognizable as her former self. I couldn't say whether it was time, stress, or the combination of both that took it's toll on her; nevertheless, my mother was tired.

I squinted and tried to re-focus on the priest, on the words he was saying so sternly and seriously. Like everyone around me, the look on his face was one of pure misery. I was sure he wouldn't be sermonizing in the frigid cold if he hadn't received a 'donation' from my mother to do so.

"Because God has chosen to call our brother from this life to Himself, we commit his body to the earth..." the priest recited, standing over the grave.

I forced myself to look away, not sure if it was the words or the unrelenting wind that brought tears to my eyes. I had promised myself I wouldn't cry. It would be like an insult to my father, and I had already hurt him enough. Instead, I looked at the people around me: aunts I hadn't seen in years being comforted by their husbands, uncles standing unwavering, solemn looks on their faces.

My mother's oldest sister caught my eye and smiled lightly before she burst into tears. I looked away immediately. I was surrounded by family with whom I had once been close but had since lost contact. One by one I look them over, first meeting their eyes, then observing their dark, worn clothes, as they stood with hands clasped tightly together in front of them.

Behind them stood yet more family, then friends, and many people who were strangers to me. It caught me by surprise the number of people that were here, standing around my fathers casket in this cemetery on this frigid day. I watched them all as they watched me, the looks of pity and sorrow on their faces making me shift nervously in my seat.

"Bella, be serious, will you please?" my mother spat at me, quietly.

I wanted to turn to her and scream. Be serious? How could I not 'be serious'? I was burying my father. Unfortunately, she had never understood me, and obviously never would.

I listened to the priest as he droned on, speaking of God and death and reasoning, none of it meaning a thing to me. Although Catholicism was in my blood, it was never in my heart.

Movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I turned my gaze to the right. Looking into the distance I could see a man standing beside a headstone. At first I thought he was just visiting a departed family member, but his attention was not directed to the stone in front of him, it was focused where I was sitting. He was watching my father's funeral from afar.

A chill caught my breath as I watched him watch the service, and I had to wonder why he didn't come any closer. He stood tall and unmoving in the distance, forcing me to squint my eyes to see what he looked like. His face was old and wrinkled, showing his age was more of my father's than mine. Maybe he was a friend, or an associate, that wanted to keep his distance; maybe he wasn't a friend at all.. He was tall and had a thin frame, and was wearing a dark suit and sunglasses even though it was cloudy.

He stood there through the rest of the service, not making a move to leave or come closer, so I watched him.

A few minutes later the service was over, and I felt my mother stand by my side. Slowly but surely everyone attending passed by us, offering their condolences to my mother and me, some blotting the tears from their eyes. I hugged and shook hands and thanked everyone awkwardly, desperately wanting to escape these people and their tears. I just wanted to go home.

Thirty minutes later I was back in the living room of the house in which I grew up. My mother and father had started their married life in this house, raised their family here, and I'm sure would never leave.

The house I grew up in was big, one of the largest on the street. I had loved it here when I was a child, playing outside on the large front lawn with the other kids from the neighborhood. Everyone knew this house, and who lived in it, that was just the style of the neighborhood.

Inside the decor was outdated, probably popular when my parents had bought the place but which had long since gone out of style. Couches and chairs took up most of the living room and den, surrounded by tables full of pictures of family and friends still alive or dead.

The den was my fathers room mostly, decorated with large bookcases full of books upon books, with a small television in the corner so he could watch the Red Sox play.

South Boston was packed full of people: some straight, some gay, some English, Italian or Polish, and there were definitely a lot of Irish. That's what I was, full blood Irish, and by the looks of most of the people around me, so were they.

Person after person filed through the house, picking up a drink or a bite to eat as they stood quietly in groups, speaking low about what a tragedy the death of my father was. I paid little to no attention as I filtered through the room, heading into the kitchen to replace some of the food that had been eaten..

I was bringing another casserole made by a friend of the family out to the table when I saw a familiar face walk through the door. My heart dropped into my stomach before it started to accelerate, my eyes narrowing at the sight of him: Edward Cullen.

Quickly moving to set the glass dish on the table, I made my way through the stoic crowds until I reached the front door.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed as I walked up to him.

Tall and strong, just as he was when I last saw him, he turned to me smiling. "Well, hello, Bella. Nice to see you too."

Taking him quickly by the arm, I moved him with me into the den and out of the crowd. "Seriously, Edward, what the hell are you doing here?"

I was more than infuriated by his presence. He was like a thorn in my side, the only person in this world I actually loathed, and he was standing inside my house. I was fuming.

"I came to pay my respects, Bella, Jesus. I'd be an asshole, otherwise."

"Otherwise!" I said loudly before forcing myself to lower my voice. "Like you are not already an asshole?"

Shaking his head, he tried to walk around me. I grabbed his arm to stop him, so angry I was shaking. "I don't want you here. You need to go, now."

Edward looked the same as he did when I had last seen him, all those years ago when I had sworn to lay his balls out on a platter for him to eat. He was still handsome, with dark hair and hazel eyes that made every girl in town melt, except me.

I'd hated him for longer than I could remember, for a million and one reasons that I would never forget. I hated that he was now standing in my home.

"Bella, you need to lighten up."

Shaking his head, he grazed past me as I watched him with eyes full of fury. He walked through the living room and straight to my mother, leaning down and whispering in her ear. I bit down on my bottom lip as I watched them, my mother nodding silently in thanks as she watched him turn back to me. Leaning against the den room door, I eyed him as he strode back my way, his eyes never dropping mine.

As he reached the front door he stopped and turned back to me. "I'm sorry for your loss."

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><p>Thanks for reading!<p> 


	2. Chapter One

Thanks to Artistic Wonder and Britt01 for helping with this, and thanks to those giving this a shot.

Enjoy!

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><p>I rolled over quickly, the sun beaming through my shades doing a number on my head, and intensifying my hangover. Resting back down on my pillow, I had finally managed to will one eye open when I felt something warm move next to me.<p>

"What time is it?" I heard, muffled from under the blankets.

Lifting my head just enough to see my clock on the bedside table, I saw that it was late - too late for him to be here.

"It's late, almost noon. You have to go." I started pulling the covers off of his side of the bed. I knew exactly who was under there, and once again I cursed myself for waking up next to him in my bed.

I felt him roll over, and finally he sat up beside me. "Jesus, I'm fucking dying."

Lifting my green down comforter straight up to my chin, I watched him as he took the green bottle of Jameson whiskey from next to the bed, turning it upside down. "Empty."

I could have told him that: considering the way I felt and the situation we were in, I was not the least bit surprised. Sliding down in my bed so I was completely covered, I closed my eyes again and listened until the door to my apartment was finally closed.

I had to get up. I'd slept almost half the day away and even though work didn't start for two hours, if I didn't crawl out of bed soon and nurse my hangover, I was going to be miserable. Pushing the covers off my face and shivering from the cold, I forced myself out of bed.

I lived in a small apartment building, in an even smaller apartment, in the middle of rural nowhere. I'd packed up and moved out of South Boston immediately after college, stopping here along the way to Anywhere, and I'd never left. A big change from city life, being in this place was exactly what I thought I needed - until I got here. Getting a job at an Italian restaurant in town, I got by on tips and tips alone, barely surviving and making enough to pay my rent. All that mattered to me was that it wasn't where I had grown up.

Shuffling across my small bedroom and into the kitchen, I turned on the coffee maker and waited for it to heat. I cursed myself, my mind wandering to the events of the previous night.

"Fucking whiskey," I muttered.

Taking my freshly made cup of coffee into the bathroom, I stopped to glance in the mirror as I set my coffee down beside the sink. I looked horrible, but that was no surprise. My brown hair that I'd always loved so much was in knots around my face. Last night's mascara and eyeliner were smudged and clumped underneath my eyes.

"Very nice," I complimented myself as I turned on the tap. Waiting for the water to become lukewarm, I splashed my face a few times in the hope it would wake me up. I patted my face dry with a towel, grabbed my coffee, and made my way to the living room.

The routine was the same every day. I'd wake up late, then sit around for a few hours before going to work. It was tedious and boring, but I'd grown accustomed to it. There was a certain comfort in knowing that I didn't hold too much responsibility in the world.

Sitting down on my dingy old couch, I flipped the television on and watched something mindless for an hour before I forced myself to get ready for work. The shower felt great on my tired, sore body. I let the previous night's hangover wash off of me, scrubbing until I finally felt clean, and somewhat rejuvenated. Not wanting to ever get out, I forced myself to turn off the water; I knew that a high heating bill would push me over the edge for the month. Shivering cold, I quickly dried myself off and wrapped my body in a tattered robe.

I quickly blew my hair dry, after taking forever to get the knots out. I checked my cell phone to make sure that I hadn't missed a call while showering, but I wasn't surprised to see that there had been no calls or texts. A small pang in my heart stopped me momentarily, surprising me that I was sad about no one calling. It was by my own doing that I didn't have many friends. I found it hard to trust people, or to reach out and make friends, so most of the time I didn't mind being alone. Apparently, today wasn't one of those days.

Finally dressed and ready for work, I climbed into my old blue car, praying that it would be kind to me and start today. I'd been late to work often enough that I wasn't sure I'd have a job if it happened again. Finally, after a few tries, the engine fired and choked its way to running, and I was off.

Making my way down the tree-lined streets of my town, I once again recalled the events of the night before. I had sworn time and time again that I was going to lay off the whiskey, because it never brought me anything but trouble, causing me to do things I had to pay for later. Images of my body wrapped tightly around him flowed through my mind, so I turned the music up as loud as it could go and did deep breathing exercises to try to drive the thoughts from my head.

I pulled into the parking lot of work and sighed heavily. When I first applied for the job, I wasn't expecting to get hired because of my lack of experience and general know-how of the restaurant business. Surprisingly enough, the owner took one look at my legs as he sipped at his vodka and tonic, and said I was hired.

That was four years ago.

I quickly walked through the dirt parking lot and in the back door, greeting the fat, drunk owner as he leaned over the side of the counter, swaying back and forth as he gawked at me. He was the most disgusting part of this job. He had greasy hair, a fat belly and was a chronic smoker who didn't feel bad about blowing smoke in your face. At first it was hard to get used to his attention, but over time I learned that he was harmless so I let him look, and wish, because that was as far as he was going to get.

"What's up?" my brunette coworker asked, as I dropped my purse next to hers in the dining room. I could smell the sweet scent of gin coming off her breath, and knew I was in for a long night.

That was the deal with this place. Everyone drank. The owner did, so he felt like an ass telling his workers that they couldn't. The customers drank, so the employees drank too because they wanted to join in. It was a strange place; there was the off day that something bad happened, but most of the time it worked fine.

I didn't really drink before I started to work here. I had had a few glasses of wine on the random occasion, but never really more than that. After the first few months here, my Irish descent kicked in and I developed a taste for whiskey - a really good taste.

"What did you do last night?" Minnie asked me as we walked back into the kitchen to do our side work. She was the closest friend I had here at work, and also the most volatile. You could tell by the look on her face and the tone in her voice when you should keep quiet and leave her alone. She could get really nasty sometimes.

"You know," I said quietly, rolling my eyes at myself and my piss-poor judgement.

"Again? Bella, you're kidding me."

Shaking my head silently, I waited for the ass kicking to start.

"You said you weren't going to do that anymore, you swore it on your life, as I recall. What happened to that?"

Shrugging as I pulled out tomatoes and onions to be sliced, I looked at her and smiled sheepishly. "The whiskey really likes him."

I laughed, but she didn't, and I kicked myself again for my stupidity. I had promised myself that I wouldn't sleep with him again, but sometimes I just didn't want to go home alone. Sometimes, the company helped keep the loneliness away.

"You're the one that's going to pay, you know. Do whatever you want."

Just then the door opened, and in he walked. Feeling myself blush, I hid my head in the refrigerator and pretended to look for something as he walked by and lightly grazed my back with his hand. After he went into the other room, I looked over at Minnie who knowingly smirked at me. I chuckled, not sure if it was because of her, the situation I found myself in, or the sheer awkwardness of it all.

I spent most of the night keeping to myself, never getting involved with any conversations with my coworkers or being the least bit social. Every once in a while he would walk my way, and I would quickly turn around and walk in the other direction.

Towards the end of the night, while entering the kitchen, I heard my cell phone ring. Turning around, I saw that Minnie had it in her hand, a questioning look on her face.

She held out the phone as I approached, shrugging and looking at me with questioning eyes. "It keeps ringing. Your phone never rings..."

"Hello?" I spoke as I lifted it to my ear. The voice that rang through the other end made my heart sink. It was a voice I hadn't heard in months, or was it years now? It shook me to my core.

"It's your mother. Something's happened and you must come home."

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><p>If you decide to take the time and review, thank you...<p> 


	3. Chapter Two

Thank you to Britt01 and for helping me with this.

This will be the regular length of each chapter, unless something crazy happens.

Thank you to all of you that are reading, alerting and reviewing.

Enjoy!

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><p>The road back to South Boston seemed shorter, and more familiar than it had been when I'd fled.<p>

I couldn't stop the sound of my mother's voice from running circles in my mind as I drove. Each time she said that my father was dead tore out another tiny piece of my soul. My father was dead. My father was dead.

_Dead._

_Dead._

At some point the road blurred so much that I had to pull over, shutting the ignition off before I shoved open the door and jumped from the car.

Vehicles speeding by me threw my hair up around my face as I walked from the road to the grass by its side. The sky was bright and I had misplaced my Ray Bans, so I squinted against the sun and against my tears until I finally stopped and hung my head, letting go of everything that was held so tightly inside me.

_Dead._

I cried deep, painful bursts, sob after sob that tore my stomach piece by piece and brought it erupting from my mouth. Between heaves and moans and cries I felt something inside me die, as something else bloomed.

The hate that I had carried for my father rushed from my mind and my heart as quickly as it had come all those years ago, and was replaced by a pain so sharp I knew immediately what it was.

Regret.

All the things I said, or didn't say - they beat at my mind and my body as I crouched on the road side, sobbing and vomiting and crying, over and over, until I was left with nothing but dry heaves.

I had made choices based on his choices, and there was nothing that I could do about it now. He was gone, and I was going back to the place to which I'd sworn I'd never return.

The length of time between the last time I had spoken to my dad and now was growing, feeling larger and more empty than ever. It had never really occurred to me that in my punishment of him, I would wind up punishing myself in the long run, but I could see it now.

Wow, had I screwed up.

Wiping the tears from my eyes and straightening my hair, I made my way back to the car, reaching for my bottle of water to rinse my mouth before I took off for my childhood home

-.

I eyeballed the clock on my car radio, watching as time passed all too quickly. Looking out the window to the familiar house in front of me, I frowned. There was no doubt about it, I had to go inside.

The house look quieter than I'd expected. There were no people around, the lights were off and there were no cars in the driveway. Hope struck me that maybe no one was home, and I could get reacquainted with "home sweet home" all by myself.

I took a deep breath and let it flow slowly from me. Closing my eyes and picturing my tiny apartment in the even tinier town that yesterday I had called home, I knew that that part of my life was over, at least for now.

A loud bang on the passenger's side window shocked me from my thoughts as I jumped at the noise. Looking over to the window, ready to grab for the handle of the door and run, I saw a familiar face smile at me.

"Bella!" I heard, muffled from outside the car.

Taking a few deep breaths to get my heart rate to slow, I reached for the passenger door, pulling the handle then pushing it out.

"Hey, Jasper. You scared the fuck out of me."

"Sorry," he laughed as he got in, shutting the door beside him. "What the hell are you doing out here in the dark? You look like a robber, sitting here casing the joint."

I shook my head and looked once again at my house, lights still out and no one home. "I'm trying to get the balls to go in and face my mother."

"Found 'em yet?"

"Not a fucking chance." Jasper chuckled and I sighed, leaning back into my seat and closing my eyes. "I can't believe I'm here."

"No kidding. I saw you drive up fifteen minutes ago, and I finally had to come over to see who it was. Shock of my life to see you in here."

"Yeah, well, present circumstances and all that."

Jasper Hale and I had grown up together. I'd known him as long as I could remember, and he'd always been a good guy. He was closest to my brother; I was always the little sister no one wanted to play with, but he had remained kind to me.

"Your mother is at my house. She's been there all day, says she can't be in your house alone. Makes her hurt too much."

I looked quickly across the street at his family's house. All the lights were on and I could see movement in the front windows. I had been inside that house more times than I could count, knew his entire family and cared for them all, but I had never not wanted to see them as much as I did right at this moment.

"Come on inside. My mom will be happy to see you, and it'll break the ice."

I looked at Jasper and shook my head.

"You have to go inside at some point, Bella. It's cold as fuck out here so it may as well be sooner than later." He opened his side door. "Come on. Get it over with."

I rolled my eyes and climbed slowly out of the car, groaning as Jasper appeared in front of me, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards his house.

"Hey, you were the one who took off without a word to anyone and hasn't maintained contact with anyone but your mother in what... _four_ years! What is it they say?" he asked as he pulled me along beside him. "You made your own bed."

"Yeah," I mumbled as we crossed the street. Just as we reached the curb and the steps to his house, Jasper turned to me, reaching for both of my hands. Without a word he pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

I resisted his embrace at first, surprised by the sweet gesture, but gave in and leaned into him, smelling his scent and feeling his warmth. We held each other for a few minutes before he whispered, "I'm sorry about your dad."

I walked hesitantly behind Jasper as he led me into his home, the aroma of coffee and spices reminding me that I hadn't eaten all day.

"Look who I found!" he exclaimed, as we walked into the dining room full of people.

I stopped quickly, my eyes finding my mother's immediately. Leaning against the framed doorway, I prayed it would hold me up as I suddenly felt faint. The room was hot and I tugged at my jacket, needing to take it off but feeling too awkward as people stared silently at me.

"Bella," my mother said from her chair as she rose. She walked and wrapped her arms tightly around me, pulling me to her. "Oh Bella, Bella, Bella." Shifting nervously in her embrace, I looked over her shoulder at Jasper, who smiled sadly beside me.

I would hug my mother in front of this room full of people for as long as she needed. No matter how long, or why, I had been gone, I wanted comfort just as much as she did. My father, her husband, had died. Our family and neighborhood was plagued with yet another death. It was just her and I now, and I was barely here.

As if to shift the mood from despair to something possibly lighter, Jasper's mom stood and grabbed a plate at a table beside me, motioning silently for me to get something to eat. I pulled my mother from me and sat her back down before I took my own seat and started to fill my plate.

"You're too skinny, Bella," Jasper's mother informed the room. I smiled at her uncomfortably and added another heap of potatoes to my already overwhelming plate.

While I took the first bites of potato and corned beef, I looked around the room in order to ignore my mother's staring gaze. I could feel her eyes, and all the questions that came with, burn into me.

"Thank you for the food," I said quietly, smiling towards Jasper and his mother.

What felt like hours later, but was just thirty minutes, Renee and I were standing in our own familiar kitchen.

"Should I even ask you where you've been?" Renee asked quietly as she sipped her coffee.

I paced back and forth nervously, holding my own coffee in my hands. In the many times I had thought about coming home, this conversation was what always kept me away. In truth, I had nothing to say that would make this better, or explain anything. What was done was done, and that was all that mattered. I really did not want to rehash the past.

"Bella?"

I sighed and put my coffee mug on the counter, running my hands through my hair and wanting nothing more than to dart out the back door.

"I just needed to get away, Mom."

I heard her groan behind me. "And you don't think I did?"

I whirled around quickly, glaring at her. "I lost my brother, Mom! My best friend! In the whole fucking world. You have no idea how that could have felt."

Suddenly Renee was walking towards me, a look of fury in her eyes. "And I lost my son! If you possibly think that I had no idea how you felt, you are out of your mind!"

I turned my back on her, feeling the tears threaten to fall. "I don't want to argue."

"We aren't arguing, Isabella, but you are being selfish. We lost Michael and it was horrible for everyone, and then you left, and that made it so much worse. You have no idea what you did to your father and I the day we came home to find your note."

I could hear the pain in her voice when she brought up the way I had left. My heart ached when I recalled the letter I had left on the table in this very room, because I was too chickenshit to face my parents.

"I didn't know any other way, Mom. I just needed- time."

The silence was deafening, each of us drawn into our corners of the room, glaring at each other miserably. There was so much to say, it was almost overwhelming.

"Listen, Mom, after Michael died I couldn't deal." I raised my hand when I saw her open her mouth to speak. "Please, let me finish."

Only when she took a deep breath and nodded did I continue.

"I saw my brother die. It was horrible and it tore me apart. There was no way I could recover from something like that while I watched you mourn him, too. You know I barely made it through the funeral before I left. I just needed time- to figure shit out."

I walked over to her and grabbed her hands, pulling her to a chair by the table and sitting her down. Kneeling in front of her and holding her hands, I looked up into her face as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry I left that way, Mom, but I hope you can understand. He was my best friend. He was there for me when Dad was gone all the time and you were too busy for us. He was...everything."

I looked down at the ground because I knew I was crying and I hated it. "And now Dad's gone-"

I heard my mother choke on her tears so I stood up, reaching for a box of tissues as I sat down beside her.

"He's gone, Bella. They're both gone. I just- I just don't even know what to do."

We sat staring at each other long enough that our coffees cooled. It was more than obvious that we had said enough for one day and were spent from all the emotion.

"I'm tired," I finally admitted when the clock struck another hour. "Let's go to bed, Mom."

We abandoned the kitchen, and I followed her up the stairs that lead to our rooms. As I turned to walk into my old room, I felt a tug at my hand.

I turned to look a her, and she smiled sadly. "Sleep with me? It's so hard without him here, next to me. I just- I can't sleep well. Do you mind?"

I silently shook my head and made my way into my parent's bedroom. Ignoring the pictures on the wall and the bureau, I sat down on the bed and flipped off my shoes.

We both lay down at the same time, still in our clothes and still overwhelmed with emotion. I dragged a blanket over us and lay still until I heard the once-familiar sound of my mother's sleeping breath.

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><p>Please, if you have a moment, take the time to leave your thoughts.<p> 


	4. Chapter 3

A big sorry to all of you following this story, I was without a computer for about a month. I am back up and running now, so you can look forward to your weekly updates again.

Thanks to my fab beta, Britt01, and my pre-reader, , for helping me out.

Enjoy this short and sweet chapter!

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><p>The funeral and burial service for my father came and went quickly. Renee struggled with the planning of it so I helped as much as I could. It's strange how the role of parent and child can be defined in a certain way for so long, but when something happens it can switch so simply.<p>

Meeting people I hadn't seen in years was something of a struggle, both for me and for them. Running out of the city after the death of my brother had seemed logical at the time, but I now saw was a huge mistake. People had loved me as much as they had loved him, and not being able to mourn his loss with me put a bitter taste in their mouths. I had lost a lot of respect from many people I loved, both family and friends.

Once again stuck between needing to stay, and dying to run as far away from Southie as my little car could take me, this time I had promised Renee that I would at least stay and help her sort through Dad's belongings. It was the least I could do and would give me the time I needed to get my head on straight.

I stood on the front porch of my house and stared at my cell, not wanting to make this phone call but knowing it had to be done. I dialed my work number quickly and prayed that my boss would pick up. When I heard the deep voice that often whispered my name from under the sheets, I cursed quietly.

"Sam, it's Bella."

"Bella! Hey!" And then in a more sullen tone, "I've been trying to call you. Are you all right?"

I shuffled my feet in against the bricks nervously, almost as if he were standing right in front of me.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just, um, I'm just calling to let you guys know that I won't be back for a little bit. Can you get my shifts covered?"

"Of course, yeah. Take your time, or whatever."

I smiled a little into the phone, not surprised at all that he already knew about my father. Things traveled fast in small groups like the one I worked with.

"Great, thanks."

An awkward silence loomed between us before I spoke up and started to say goodbye.

"Bella?" he interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"If you need anything, call me. Okay? I can be there in a second."

"Yep. Thanks," I replied quickly, before snapping my phone shut.

Turning around, I opened the front door and went back into the house. I walked slowly around the living room, bending down once or twice to stare at a picture on a table. Our family portrait caught my eye from where it was hanging on the wall above the fireplace.

I remembered that day like it was yesterday. Michael and I were upset that we had been forced to go with our parents to get our photo taken. I couldn't for the life of me remember what we wanted to do instead, but then it had seemed so much more important.

What I would give to have that day to do all over again. I would like to have made it so different:my father and brother would have talked, my mom would have paid us a little attention, and I would have enjoyed my parents' company.

Looking at this picture made me ache for my brother.

Slowly, I made my way back into the kitchen, finding my mother sitting at the table surrounded by stacks of paper. I looked at her, with her arms wrapped so tightly around her body it looked as if she were struggling to keep her insides from falling out.

I smiled lightly and shook my head. "I never realized how much stuff Dad had."

"No, Bella, you just never paid attention," she said angrily.

I sat down into the chair across from her, leaning back as if she'd shot me. "Never paid attention? Me? Who was the one that was never around? It certainly wasn't me." I could feel my anger starting to boil over. "He got a new client and it was like he dropped off the face of the planet. I've never heard of a lawyer that made house calls at 1 am!"

"Your father was very dedicated to his business," she said sternly.

"Dedicated. Right. That's what you call giving up your family- dedication? Bravo, Dad, for doing such a great job!"

"Enough, Isabella. Charlie did everything he did for you and your brother, and you know it. You wouldn't have half the things you did if it hadn't been for him and his sacrifices."

I stood up, unable to keep myself from pacing back and forth across the pale kitchen floor.

"I didn't want anything, Mom. All I ever wanted was a mother that gave a shit and a father who was there."

"Don't do this, please, Bella. I can't take much more. I just can't..."

I sighed heavily, turning to face my mother as she sat and stared out the window. It was where she had spent most of her life, at that table, staring off into the world instead of doing all the things she should have been doing.

"I never knew how to be a mother. Your father had me convinced that we would do a great job together- then Michael came. I was so scared. Terrified that I would screw things up, screw you up. I didn't want things to turn out this way. I just didn't know what else to do."

"You could have tried," I said, crossing my arms in front of me and glaring at her.

"I did try, trust me, I did," she pleaded, with worn out eyes. "It's just that when your father became more invested in his work, I just got scared. I was alone with the two of you and - let's just say you're not the only one that was angry at your dad.

"But the drinking, Mom, it was-"

"I know, Bella, I know. It was all I could do to keep myself together."

"But you didn't! Your body was here but you weren't, and you should have been. We had no one."

The silence that filled the room was palpable, filled with words we had said and every meaning that loomed within them. I wasn't sure we would ever move past this, or be whole again. Every doubt in my mind and ache in my heart proved that my relationship with my mother might not be salvageable.

The light in the room had dimmed as the sun started to set. Surrendering to the fact that our conversation was over, I reached forward and grabbed a pile of papers.

"I've already looked through those," she said.

"I know, I'm just going to take a quick look, to make sure everything is in order."

She smiled, a sad smile that made my heart ache.

"You're just as stubborn as your father."

Ignoring her comment completely, I flipped through several piles of paperwork, seeing that things were organized and looked after. I was about to move on to something else when I saw the emblem of a storage facility I recognized printed on the top of one of the bottom papers.

I pulled it out and read it: there was a unit rented in my brother's name that had been paid in full for the previous year - a full three years after Michael had died.

"Mom? Did Michael have anything in storage?"

Renee looked up at me, surprised, and shook her head.

"Of course not, why?"

Something inside me told me not to continue this conversation, instead I shook my head and shrugged.

For the rest of the evening and into the night I couldn't get that invoice out of my mind. Maybe it was a misprint, meant to say someone else, maybe my father's name or one of my uncles'. But why would my father have it? Wouldn't he have fixed it to say Charlie Swan instead of Michael Swan if it was his? It wasn't like he needed a storage unit - our basement and his office had plenty of storage space.

Was the unit even still there? Most importantly, what was in it? I tossed and turned until finally falling asleep, assuring myself that I would figure this all out in the morning.

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><p>Please be kind, leave a review!<p> 


	5. Chapter 4

Thanks to and Britt01 for the help with this.

Also, thanks to those that reviewed last week. Sorry I didn't get a chance to respond but it was a crazy week.

Hope you're ready for some Edward!

ENJOY!

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><p>I parked my car in the far corner of the storage facility parking lot but remained planted in my seat, staring out the window. I had been in this building a few times before, mostly with Michael when we were younger. That was then and this was now, and going inside was the last thing I wanted to do. Clutching the invoice tightly, I opened the car door and walked to the building.<p>

The door swung open quickly, ringing one of those hanging bells that I wished I could tear off and toss across the room. I was more uncomfortable than ever, praying that I wouldn't know the person who would come out from the back office.

When I saw the tall, lean stature and messy hair of the man standing with his back to me in the back room, I shook my head and cursed quietly.

He was on the phone and obviously hadn't heard the bell announce me, so I thought for a moment that I could leave and he wouldn't know the difference. About to turn on my heels, he hung up the phone and moved to face me.

"Bella?" he said from a distance. He took a few steps towards me, his brow furrowed and shoulders tense.

"Yeah, um- hey. You look busy so I'll just come back another-"

I made a side step towards the door, almost tripping over my own feet in my haste to get the hell out of there. He saw me trying to retreat, and walked quickly around the desk towards me.

"I'm not busy at all. You don't have to go."

Shifting nervously on my feet, I looked at every corner of the room instead of meeting his eyes.

"What are you doing here, Bella? Last time I saw you you were about to tear my throat out," he said, smiling lightly.

My anger and frustration rose, knowing that he was probably quite enjoying seeing me so uncomfortable. I sighed heavily, turning to leave.

"Never mind," I said roughly.

I felt his hand on my arm, pulling me back from the door. I glared at him, angry that he even thought he could touch me.

"Get your hands off me, Edward Cullen."

His grip was gone from my arm in an instant. Taking a few steps back and lifting his hands in front of him, he shook his head at me and frowned.

"Listen, you're the one that came here. You don't have to be so nasty."

I snorted, rolling my eyes at him, but moving away from the door at the same time. It occurred to me that I was still holding the invoice in my hand, so I held it out to him in an effort to change the subject.

"I found this in my Dad's stuff. It's for a unit."

"Yeah, so?" he said. "Lots of people have units here."

I frowned, tossing the invoice at him.

"Oh yeah? Dead people, too?"

His eyes widened for a second, but he didn't look at the paper. Instead he held my gaze, like he had no idea what to say.

"It's in Michael's name, Edward. For last year. Do you mind telling me how my dead brother managed to get a storage unit here?"

He said nothing, which in turn made me more angry. I ripped the invoice from his hand and stuffed it into my purse, ready to get the hell out of there.

"It was your father's idea," he said quietly.

I looked at him as he stood awkwardly in front of me, opening and closing his mouth while he tried to figure out what to say next.

"Fuck, you make me nervous," he muttered as he turned away, walking back behind the desk.

"Where are you going?" I asked, crossing my hands over my chest impatiently.

He said nothing, instead grabbing a scary looking tool from beneath the counter. I watched him as he came back towards me; I didn't move, unsure of what he was doing.

"Are you coming?" he asked, as he opened the door and walked outside.

I followed silently behind him as he led me down a row of units until we reached the end. Each unit looked the same, and it struck me as odd that he didn't even have to look at the paper to know which unit to go to.

"You know I'm breaking the law, right? Technically, you need documentation to be able to get into someone else's unit."

"But you'll let it slide this time," I said sarcastically.

He frowned. "Right. Because we're so close and all."

He looked at me so intently it made the hairs on the back of my neck raise. I had to look away. There were feelings of anger and resentment towards him boiling in my blood, but there was something else:something warm, deep inside me, reminding me of home. In an effort to ignore what my body was trying to tell me, I focused my attention of the tool he was holding.

"Is that going to open it?"

"No, but it will break the lock," he answered, smirking.

I rolled my eyes once again, watching him as he took the tool and with a quick snap broke the lock in two. He took it off the latch and leaned down to pull the door open while I paced nervously, suddenly anxious to see what was inside.

As he pulled the door open and motioned for me to enter, I took a hesitant step inside.

"Nothing is going to bite you, Bella."

Each side of the small unit was stacked with brown boxes, from the floor to the roof. I noticed that each box had a date written in black marker on the side, and _Confidential_ printed underneath.

"Jesus," I whispered under my breath, as I walked through the narrow path towards the back of the unit.

Boxes and boxes were piled on top of one another, making me feel silly for being so interested in what was in this unit. It was obviously where my father kept all his old files and paperwork.

The mountain of brown ended halfway through the room, revealing an open space in the back. A metal filing cabinet and a larger two-doored cabinet stood alone against the back wall. I walked towards the larger piece and tried to pull open the doors, frowning when I found them locked tightly.

"Of course they're locked," I said. "How can I get these open?"

I turned to look at Edward, who had been awfully quiet since we walked into the unit. He stood closer to the front of the unit, arms crossed over his chest with an inscrutable look on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I'm not sure I can get those open, and maybe, you know, they could be locked for a reason."

"What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. "What do you mean 'for a reason?'"

"Listen, forget I said anything. I can try to find something to get those open, but those are internal locks. It's going to take me a while, all right? I'll let you know if I can do it."

The tone in his voice was sharp, yet nervous. I was so taken aback by his change of demeanor that I just nodded silently, walking past him to exit the unit. After he followed me out, I took one last look into the unit before I pulled the door down.

"Will you find me a lock for this?" I asked him, not sure of how I was going to secure the door again. He nodded, walking back towards the office.

Three days later I got a phone call from Edward. He was vague and distant, just saying sharply that he had managed to get a hold of a tool that would open the storage cabinets.

I met him back at the storage facility later that day, humming with nervous anticipation of what I would find inside the metal cabinet doors once they were opened.

We stood side by side in my brother's unit, eyeing the cabinets silently.

"Are you sure you want to open these?" he said quietly.

"Why wouldn't I?" I responded sharply.

"I don't know. I mean, people keep shit locked up for a reason. It feels kind of wrong to be rummaging through your dad's stuff like this."

I snorted, looking over at him grimly. "This coming from the guy that loves being all up in my family's business. Plus, I have to, him being dead and all."

He scoffed, shifting nervously from one foot to another, gripping a pair of pliers in one hand and a pick in the other. "At one point, you all were like my family too. Now, do you want me to open this for you or what?"

I sighed, nodding my head silently and offering him a faint smile. "Yes, please."

I watched nervously as he slowly tried to pick the lock on the file cabinet's top drawer. After a few minutes, several curses and a bloody finger, I heard a click as he slid the top drawer open.

He stepped back in the same time I stepped forward and peered inside. I reached in and picked up a small metal box, placing it on one of the brown boxes behind me so I could examine it.

I opened the top, lifting it off completely. "What the fuck? Passports?"

Edward was at my side in an instant, reaching and and pulling out a handful of different colored passports. Each the the name of a different country on the front, but when I pulled the beginning pages open I saw that they all had my father's picture on them, with different names.

"What the hell was he doing with all these?" I asked, hearing the nervousness in my own voice.

"Oh wow," Edward responded somberly.

I looked in the metal box again and felt my nerves jolt into over-drive, seeing a stack of hundred dollar bills along with large amounts of other currencies.

"Jesus," I said quietly.

I turned back to the file cabinet, pulling the next drawer open. I swallowed hard but didn't reach my hand inside, not wanting to touch the gun that rested alone in the drawer.

"Edward," I said quietly, calling him to my side.

"A Beretta," he said as he saw the gun.

"How do you know?"

"I don't know, I just do."

"Well what the hell was my Dad doing with a hand gun?"

I felt the tears brim in my eyes, not caring enough to look away from Edward as they poured down my cheeks. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I could feel the flush rise to my face as the panic rose in my throat.

"Bella," he started.

"I just.. I'm just..." I stammered as I backed away from the cabinet. "I just need to get out of here."

Suddenly overwhelmed with fear and anxiety, I backed out of the unit quickly, tripping on the edge of a box and falling to the floor.

Edward took a step towards me, reaching out his hand to help me up. I jumped to my feet, brushing off his help, and walked quickly out the door without looking back.

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><p>Please be supportive of your favorite stories and always leave a review!<p> 


	6. Chapter 5

Hey there! Sorry for the wait on this chapter, but it's complicated and I wanted to get it right. On that note, thank you to my beta, Britt01 and my pre-reader, for helping me on this. Also, thank you to those of you that are reading this. I appreciate you all!

I hope you enjoy!

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><p>The next few days passed slowly, my mind frozen on recent events. I was still having a hard time concentrating on anything; thoughts of the passports and stacks of cash I had found in the storage unit kept swirling through my head.<p>

Part of me wanted to return immediately, open the remaining drawers and find out if there was anything else shocking in them. Another, more fearful side of me wanted to distance myself and take a break from all that was my father and his mysteries. So that's what I did.

The comfort of my old favorite coffee shop was supposed to do the trick. Between the coffee, the pastries and the people-watching, I thought I would have been able to distract myself for at least a few hours. Sadly, I was wrong.

I sipped my coffee and stared out the window, going over memories of my father and trying to see if I had missed something. There had to have been some clues that he wasn't who we thought he was.

The more I thought about it, the more angry I became. There had been signs to which I was oblivious in my own teenage world; things that he had done that now made me think that he might have been more than just a lawyer. Late night phone calls, leaving the house in the middle of the night, traveling for weeks at a time: all the signs were there. Charlie had been keeping secrets. Of course, all of these things could also be hints that he had been having an affair, but the gun, passports and money would all suggest it was something more ominous.

"Bella?" I heard my name called from across the shop.

I looked over and saw a face I knew as well as my own, bright eyes and a quirky smile.

"Alice!"

"My God, Bella!" she exclaimed as she rushed to me.

I stood up to meet her, my oldest friend, holding my arms out to her in a warm embrace. We held each other for a few moments. I was so happy to see her face and have her near me. When we finally pulled apart, I looked at her and laughed happily.

"I'm so glad to see you," I gushed as I gripped her hand.

"I heard about Charlie. I'm so sorry I couldn't be here, but I was stuck at a conference for work. I wish I could have been there for you."

I smiled and nodded my head. "Thanks, Alice." I hugged her again, grateful for her for being such a good friend while feeling guilty for being a shitty one.

Out of no where she shoved my shoulder hard, a pissed off look on her face taking over the smile that had lit up the room.

"But what the fuck, B. I could kick your ass right now!"

"I know, I know," I replied sheepishly, knowing I was about to get a rash of shit about my disappearing act.

"You couldn't even call me?" she asked as we settled down into chairs next to each other. "Even once in four years? Christmas? My birthday? Just to let me know that you were still alive?"

"I'm sorry, Alice, I really am. I just needed some time."

I wondered, as the same excuse I'd used with everyone else came flying out of my mouth once again, if she was going to take it.

"Bullshit," she said as she grabbed my hand. "You are so full of shit and you know it. I can tell you that because I'm still your best friend.

I noticed the table of older women next to us glaring, and I had to smile. Alice had always been the strong one. She was the person I could lean on when I needed her, and she would do anything to protect me. When my family fell apart as I got older, she became as close as a sister to me and made things so much better. Thinking back to all the things she did for me made me wince in regret for leaving without talking to her - or having had the guts to contact her while I was gone.

"Tell me you were scared," she started, squeezing my hand with her. "Tell me you were angry and lost and hurt and didn't know what to do because your brother was dead and it was the end of your world. _Don't_ tell me you just needed time, because that's crap."

I smiled bashfully at her, knowing that she was right and loving that she was going to tell me so.

"I'm right, and you know it, B. You pulled this chicken shit move and it killed me. One day you were here, and the next you were gone, never to be heard from again. I stalked your parents for weeks, trying to get information about where you had gone, but they didn't tell me anything."

"That's because they didn't know much," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."

I could feel the tears well in my eyes and spill over, and I leaned forward to cover my face with my hands.

"I'm sorry, Alice, I really am. I should have told you where I was going, should have called. The longer I had been away the harder it got to call; I felt so ashamed. I just had to get away from here, and I only thought you would convince me not to go."

"I would have gone with you."

I smiled crookedly, blotting the tears from my face with my napkin. I felt like a fool for leaving the way I did, not letting the people that cared for me know what I was doing and why. In retrospect, I should have told at least her; after all she had done for me, she had deserved an explanation.

"So are you here for long, or should I expect to not see you again for another couple of years?" she asked, a faint smile dancing on her lips.

"No, I'm here, for a while anyway. I promised my mom I'd stay and help her with some stuff. There probably won't be a job for me if I go back anyway, so there's no rush."

"Where were you?"

"Nowhere special," I said, shaking my head. "Just some small town in the middle of nowhere."

"Lovely. I'm sure you missed the city a little, didn't you?"

Nodding silently, I looked around the shop at all the people, out the window as car after car drove by. "I missed everything. The sounds, the city lights... you."

"Was there at least a guy in this Podunk town to keep things interesting?" she asked, laughing.

I could feel the color rush to my cheeks, thinking of Sam and all the things he had done to me in bed. It didn't feel right to miss him, but I sure did wish that I could relieve some of my current stress with him, under the covers.

"I take that as a yes," she said.

I looked out the window into the street , trying to will the blush from my cheeks and the dirty memories from my head. Across the way I noticed Jasper, standing between two cars as he waited for the right time to cross.

"There's Jasper," I said, pointing my finger out the window.

I watched him as he looked back and forth at the traffic, stepping into the street when the cars had passed. As he started to cross, another person, with a hoodie up over his head, crossed right behind him. When they finally reached our side of the street, Jasper turned to say something to the person following him. I groaned quietly when I saw Edward lift his head and respond.

"Jesus, he told me he was coming alone," Alice said as she stood up from the table.

"What?" I questioned as she walked away, meeting Jasper at the door to the shop.

Once the two guys made it inside, Alice pulled Jasper to the side while Edward looked at me and smiled before he made his way to the counter. I watched as Alice spoke seemingly harsh words to Jasper, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyebrows furrowed.

When he only shrugged, she turned away from him and stomped back to the table.

"He told me he was coming by himself. He brings Edward everywhere and it's making me crazy," she said angrily. "I took care of it, though."

She had to have seen the confused look on my face because she stopped her mumbling and smiled.

"He didn't tell you," she said matter-of-factly.

"Tell me what?"

"Jasper and I have been dating almost since you left," she said, averting her gaze from mine.

"What?" I scoffed. "Are you serious? You hated him!"

"Hate is such a strong word, Bella. I didn't exactly despise him; him teasing me all the time, with your brother and Edward, made me want to die of embarrassment, so I _pretended_ to hate him."

There was nothing I could say as I stared at her with my mouth gaping wide. All I could remember were the all of the days when we were growing up that she and I had spent avoiding the older boys' constant teasing, and complaining about them.

Remembering the day when I was 18 that Edward's banter with me turned into a kiss behind my house, I nodded silently, suddenly not surprised at all that Jasper and Alice would end up together.

"He really is very sweet, Bella, and he was very good to me when _you_ fell off the face of the planet."

"Jesus," I muttered under my breath, wondering how long she was going to hold my leaving against me.

I watched as Edward and Jasper waited in line to order their coffee, half-listening to Alice telling me how wonderful her relationship with Jasper was.

"I'm sorry he brought Edward. Hopefully he will get the hint and leave. He's such an asshole."

I knew that Alice was just saying that for my benefit, not knowing that Edward had been helping me in the past few days. For all she knew Edward was still a pain in my side, and I had not forgiven him for all that he had done.

Which I hadn't.

"Hello ladies," Jasper said as he pulled up a chair next to Alice. Edward followed behind him, standing awkwardly by the table while looking around the room. His eyes met mine for an instant and I felt my cheeks warm before looking away quickly.

"I'm sure Alice has told you the news of us, haven't you, babe?" he said as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"She sure did. Thanks for telling me the other night, Jasper," I wryly teased, rolling my eyes.

"You know she would have killed me if I had been the one to give the news. While she was away and I told her you had come back, she said not to say anything so she could tell you herself."

I nodded silently, smiling at Alice as she grinned at Jasper.

"Well, I'm happy for you guys," I said as I took a sip of my coffee.

"Are you ready to go, babe?" Jasper asked Alice. "The show starts soon, and we can't miss it."

Alice turned to me and pulled me into a hug. "I have to go. Jasper and I," she said, turning to glare at Edward, "are going see my cousin in her show, but let's get together soon. Are you around tomorrow? Will you call me? My number is the same."

"Of course," I said, pulling her into a hug. "I can't wait too catch up soon!"

I watched as Alice and Jasper got up from the table, intertwining their hands and walking happily out of the coffee shop. My eyes followed them as they made their way down the street, disappearing around a corner.

"Weird, right?"

I looked away from the window and up into Edward's eyes where he stood next to me.

"When Jasper first told me they were together I thought he was kidding."

I chuckled, shaking my head back and forth.

"Yeah, I didn't see that coming."

"Mind if I sit?" he asked as he pulled up a chair.

"Sure," I said nervously.

I shifted in my seat, pushing my chair a little further away from his as he sat. I was annoyed at myself for the sudden anxious feeling I had when Edward was around. It was surprising, considering that not too long ago the only feeling I had had for him was absolute hate.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I'm okay," I answered, looking down at the table in order to avoid his gaze.

I could feel his eyes burning into me, prickling my skin and making my heart beat more quickly. Forcing myself to take a deep breath and calm down, I chuckled, bemused by this ridiculous behavior that had taken over my body.

It was just Edward, I reminded myself.

"Will you excuse me for one sec? I just have to run to the ladies room," I said as I stood up, leaving my coffee and purse at the table. "I'll be right back."

He nodded as I left the table and entered the bathroom across the room. Flipping the light on quickly, I leaned over to grip the edges of the sink, staring at myself in the mirror.

"What the fuck are you doing, Bella?" I asked myself harshly.

I looked at my reflection bitterly, annoyed that I could feel myself and my resolve against Edward cracking. Maybe it was spending the time with him in the storage unit over the last week. Maybe it was the look in his eyes every time he looked my way. Maybe it was the memory of his kiss, all those years ago.

Whatever it was, it was messing things up and I had to get control.

"You hate him, Bella. He did shitty things to you," I reminded myself. "He was an asshole. And.." I stopped myself before I even said anything, the memories of my brother lying dead in front of me pushing anything warm I felt for Edward out of my mind.

"Right," I said, nodding to my reflection. "Asshole."

I took a deep breath and pulled the door open, walking back to the table where Edward was still seated, grabbing for my purse.

"Wait," he said, grabbing for my hand and pulling me back down into my chair. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something," he started, speaking almost hesitantly.

"Don't," I cut him off.

"What do you mean? You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"I don't care what you have to say, Edward," I replied, feeling my anger bubble over.

"Bella, let me just explain. Michael and I-"

"No way," I practically shouted as I rose from my chair. "No fucking way."

I reached for my bag and tossed it over my shoulder as I felt his hand on my arm.

"Let go of me, Edward," I warned. "I am not doing this."

I stalked out of the shop into the cold wind. I could hear him coming after me but I kept moving, looking up and down the road for a cab that would help me escape from this situation.

"Bella!" I heard him shout from behind me.

I felt his arms around my shoulders as he pulled me to a stop. We moved together off the street and into a narrow alleyway. I pushed him away, falling back into a cement wall.

"Leave me the fuck alone! God damn it!"

"No!" he shouted back at me as he grabbed hold of me again. He pulled my body flush against his as I fought against him. "You can hate me all you fucking want, because you think you know what really happened, but you don't. You should at least try hearing the real story before you shut me out like this."

I was fuming, caught between the memories flashing through my mind and the way his body felt pressed against mine. Images of my brother lying dead on the floor combined with those of my father lying dead in a casket overwhelmed me. I tore myself loose from his grip and slapped him.

"Fuck off," I yelled, backing away from him. "I do know what happened! I saw it, with my own two eyes. Michael, he fucking shot himself, in front of both of us! He was depressed and you were his friend and you should have told somebody!"

I could feel the tears rise up and flow out of my as I stood defiantly in front of Edward. His eyes held a sadness, one that I'd seen many times, reflected back at me in the mirror. It made me pause for a moment, almost regretting the words I had just said.

I held my breath as Edward took a step towards me, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards him.

"Don't you think I would have done something?" he said quietly. "You're not the only one that feels guilty about that day. You can hate me, and blame me all you want and that's fine, but you have no idea what you're fucking talking about."

He dropped my hand forcefully. The pit in my stomach rose to my throat as I cried, both out of frustration and sadness. I wanted to scream, to punch and kick at Edward until every ounce of anger and hurt was driven out of my body. I didn't want to feel anymore. This confusion and anger was killing me, and I wasn't sure what I could do about it.

Overwhelmed by emotion, I just stood there and cried. Edward glared at me and roughly stuffed his hands in his pockets before he turned and walked away.

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><p>Please be kind and review! Thanks!<p> 


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